CHANGE
by icallmyselfSlothforareason
Summary: Two hundred years is a long time. Change doesn't come easy despite the years. Meet Sloth. She's a Pre-War Ghoul. She's a Scavenger. Don't let her name fool ya. She'll go the extra mile if her haul is mediocre. She resides in Goodneighbor. She had a nice thing going on until a pair of greenhorns were sent her way by Diamond City's Synth sleuth. If only the past can stay in the past.


A/N: I don't own _Fallout 4_. Todd Howard owns _Fallout 4_ and the characters within that game. I only own my OCs: Joanna/Sloth, Roxanne, Lucille, Suzette, and Guy. And I do reference two songs. "Is It A Crime?" by Sade (anachronism, I know) and "My Funny Valentine" by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart.

* * *

I am called "Sloth". I am a Ghoul-ette. A ghoulette. At least, I still have my brows and hair. Lucky me. And I got the raspy voice I had always wanted. Though, if I wear male attire, I could pass as male. Okay. _Fine_. My larynx is fucked. At least I don't have to deal with acne and acne scars anymore. Heh.

Man…two centuries…

A lot of time.

I used that time to learn and master juggling, learn and master sleight-of-hand tricks, and master lockpicking. Those last two are just my way of having financial security. My shit version of insurance in case my luck as scav is shit for a day or two. The juggling is just something I remembered from my senior year of high school. The P.E. teacher encouraged his students and said something like, "No clowns will fuck with you because no one fucks with the juggler."

Anyway, off topic.

Yes. I am a Scavenger. And, yes, I admit to cutting others short when my haul is crap.

If you're gonna get all "mightier than thou" and engage in some "moral high ground", shove it up your ass and beat it.

Stupid cunts. Conceited asswipes.

Sorry. I have two young ones. They're self-entitled, self-righteous lil' shits. Tch. Snowflakes. And, supposedly, they are descendants of mine and my bestie's. (Oh, Roxanne. Bless her soul.) I hardly remember having a kid to make this descendant and ancestor thing happen. Oh wait… Shit…

I used to be a "Vaultie". I earned the nickname "Sloth" because of those three tricks instead of "being productive." I was entertaining. Gotta have fun. A guy liked me, we fucked, and I had a daughter. Guy turned out to be a skank. He left me for a blonde.

The Vault was given the green flag, though there was uncertainty. I volunteered as Scavenger because blondie was actually a sweetheart to look after my little girl. I made the trips. I did the reports. Blondie and I bonded and became besties because she really loved Lucille, and Guy dumped her. (He didn't like the reminder in the form of Lucille, our daughter.) Blondie found a good man. A better man. She made me godmother of her baby. She wanted me to host the baby shower.

Never got to it. I got told by the doctor that I can't be around Blondie and Lucille because of the rads. I was sick. Radiation poisoning. I didn't want Blondie to worry. Or Lucille. I was allowed to relay a message to Blondie and Lucille. The sickness got worse. I told them in the holotape. I told them what was going on. I was angry and sad because this was happening to me, and I wasn't gonna be there for my baby and for my bestie and her baby. I didn't sugarcoat any of it. I told them that "It is okay to be angry. I am angry, too." I thought I was gonna die of the radiation poisoning.

I left the Vault because I didn't want to die in there. I had already seen the stars and decided to die underneath the night sky, allow my body to decompose and possibly become dust. "Return to the Earth" kind of thing.

Instead, I turned into a Ghoul. I thought I was gonna end up feral. And yet, here I am.

I'm surprised those two kept the holotape. Fuck, it's an heirloom, at best.

And now, they're on this scavenger hunt to find the rest of my entries. They were curious and wanted to know what happened to Joanna.

Sometimes, I see Roxanne in Suzette. Oh, what would she think of me now. As for Lucille...Gods…

They reached a dead end, as in, they didn't know shit where to start. But, the damn detective… Nick, you scoundrel. It would have been better if you deterred the girls. Damn you, Nick. Pointing them to Goodneighbor and to _me_ to be their hired Wasteland guide. They don't need to know.

Gods...I can already imagine how the revelation is gonna go down. They're gonna get all angry and hurt and do this guilt-trip thing and ask, "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you try?" Or, they would be in disbelief and disgust and say, "It would have been better if you just died." And continue making me feel like shit for being a Ghoul. (The second option is most likely gonna happen. Previous thought was the Romantic at heart.)

I have seen the way they grimace and cringe at the sight of Ghouls. Sentient or not. They were even pulling on big effort because Nick said I am their best bet of keeping them alive in the Wastes. And that I owe the Synth sleuth, so I can't back the fuck down.

I swear, Nick is getting back at me. Not my fault Wastelanders can be stupid gossip whores! Just sing "My Funny Valentine" and "Is It a Crime?" and be Nick's go-to in Goodneighbor, and everyone loses their frikken minds with ridiculous, convoluted theories. And come on! It made them turn away with disgust when I played along and lied by saying, "Oh yeah! We're an item! Finger blast me, Nicky!" (He smacked me upside the head. I deserved that, but I ain't apologizing.) It was hilarious and stopped the rumors altogether. It mcfrikken worked. (He had to reassure denizens by removing the cover of the servo that "did the dirty deed." I felt bad for Nick for removing the servo covering, but then I remembered that he a Gen-2.5 Synth and don't feel shit. Silicon and bolts.)

Anyway, Suzette and Marina are staying at my dinky apartment because something happened at Rexford Hotel, and they blamed me for not being there to prevent the scrapes and bumps. I came in right on time! I could have forsaken their pretty, peachy butts and leave 'em for Hancock to put 'em on blast for aiding Bobbi's heist! (They said it wasn't them. I had to play lawyer and detective. Private eye, whatever. And it, really, wasn't them but _someone_ in a blue jumpsuit from a _different_ motherfucking Vault!) Ingrates!

But whatever. I owe Nick, and I owe Lucille and Roxanne. And I owe it to myself. I am gonna see this through.


End file.
